New Title 1 Read online

  I staggered backward, back as far as I could, eyes glued to the nonsensical scene before me. Estella's face, it disappeared completely! And that gigantic bear grin, it closed! Those googly eyes, they focused! The fur around her gloved hands, it grew up her arms, it wound around her chest, up her legs, until her entire body was covered in pink fuzz!

  Fat Bob cried out. He collapsed to the bed, nearly toppling the whole thing over, clutching the idiotic eagle head atop his own. He yanked at it, screaming in pain as the royal blue fur groped down his forehead across the bow of his nose, before finally covering his whole face. Then, oh god, then it opened up its plastic beak and let out a hideous shriek!

  Big D flopped on top of Bob's swollen belly. He scrambled inside the loose fur suit, panic taking over his small body. He got twisted up inside as the empty arms and feet began to snake about and coil in on themselves as though searching for their prey. The orange hippo mouth closed tighter and tighter across the little man's torso until it clamped shut entirely, trapping the poor man half-in half-out of its maw. Only his legs, fat cock, and belly were left outside its twisting form.

  Maxwell screamed in pain and grabbed the enormous lion head around his face. His terrified cries quickly turned into roars and his face dimmed and then disappeared, leaving only a giant, man-sized stuffed animal in his place.

  This insanity, this cartoon nightmare reached its crescendo when Estella, now fully consumed by her plushy teddy bear costume tore the cocks and balls off the Cum Brothers with her now sharp talon fingers. The brothers -who had similarly succumbed to their costumed counterparts and now stood as human sized fuzzy puppy dogs- howled in pain, pawing at their severed privates, each of them spewing forth not blood and gore, but... stuffing and little Styrofoam balls!

  Their toy innards shot out with greater intensity and velocity than their human seed had, covering the Estella-bear in a white fluffy mess. This seemed, however absurdly, to be the goal, as she feverishly crammed her maniacal smiling face with the stuff, chomping and cooing with a sexual intensity outpacing her previous human efforts.

  The brothers fell off the bed and were quickly set upon by the bean bag chair-thing. It ripped into their exposed genital area like some rabid wolf, tossing more stuffing into the air as it devoured their poufy insides. After only a moment or two, the puppy-men lay torn open, flattened out, and clearly dead.

  Things on the bed were no better. Big D flailed for a few moments longer, then twitched for several more until finally succumbing to a lack of oxygen. He became stiff and rigid in death, finally achieving the full erection that had so eluded him in life.

  Fat Bob was not so lucky. His big blue eagle's head, with no ability to move the titanic bulk that housed it, began pecking away at Bob's still human stomach, sending a crimson tide of blood and fat covered guts into the air. Bob still kicked and thrashed, some part of him obviously still human and still able to feel pain, the poor bastard.

  Maxwell, having now completed his bizarre transformation, roared in anger at the sight of his fallen comrades. He made to lunge at the much smaller teddy bear person still scooping up chunks of stuffing dropped by the Cum Brothers. She growled in anger and scrambled to the edge of the bed, brandishing her sharp purple claws at the lion monster.

  The blazing red lion-beast walked backward several steps in order to pounce on his diminutive prey. He stood directly in front of the head board full of little plushy animals.

  Before he could attack, the awful toys yanked out tiny little penises previously hidden by their neon colored fur and proceeded to ejaculate what -by the look and smell of it- could have only been... cotton candy.

  The bright pink stuff shot out of their dozens of little bodies with such force, Maxwell was thrown to his hands and knees onto the bed. Thick wisps of black smoke rose from his form as agonizing yelps escaped from his razor sharp maw, now rendered useless as the steady stream of stuffed animal ejaculate quickly turned his body into an oozy paste. The smell was just dreadful, nauseating even. Like burning plastic and yet somehow organic and rotten.

  Just as quickly as it had burned through the poor man-beast, the stuff stopped melting, seeming to go inert very quickly. Already the pile of pink gunk that had just been Maxwell looked like a pile of soft serve strawberry ice cream.

  The Estella bear sure seemed to think so. Her googly eyes grew even wider and she cooed out in childish delight, scooping heaping handfuls of the steaming slush into her oversized mouth. What was left of the noxious smelling goop, the left over innards of the Cum Brothers, and the gory remains of Fat Bob sloughed off the bed into the waiting mouth of the bean bag beast. All the while those awful little toys sang their awful song.

  Moonlight wakes us from our sleep,

  Pulls our thoughts from the ancient deep.

  Hunger calls, our duty pledged,

  We spill our seeds across your heads.

  And with our tools your blood be shed

  Feed our masters with our own kind,

  Now is time our pledge we bind!

  I describe all of these impossible, ridiculous things with a detached factuality because a large part of me had already accepted the possibility that I had simply gone mad. Some previously undiagnosed dementia must have overtaken me. A fast moving Alzheimer’s, a stroke mid-fuck. I didn't know. But a tiny part of my mind was still there, still in that room, seeing what I saw, smelling that rotten cotton candy stench.

  Call it a primal urge for self-preservation; I honestly do not know what kept me moving. But at that moment, as Estella played in the puddle of goo that had so recently been my Comrades-In-Fuck, I snapped out of my delirious haze. I tore the costumed head and suit from my body, casting it across the room. As soon as it was exposed to the moonlight, it too began to flail and constrict as if blindly groping for a body to inhabit.

  Naked and feeling extremely vulnerable, I looked over to the Party Planner who had, all this time, remained still and unfazed, passively watching the nightmarish events with no more emotion than if he'd been watching paint dry.

  “Please,” I said, finding my voice. “Please help me.”

  “Mr. Pillinghast,” he said, seemingly startled to see me. “I'd forgotten you were even here! Come, join the fun. You'll need to put your suit back on now. My daughter is awfully hungry. We can only eat the true flesh once a month. As you can see, she has quite the appetite; she got that from her mother, after she ate her!” With that, he laughed, long and hard.

  Had he said... daughter?

  “Daddy,” Estella-bear said from the gloopy mess of a bed. “Come eat with me!”

  The party planner grinned as he removed his shirt and pants. He grabbed a costume off the rack and strode into the moonlight, turning to face me, donning his own teddy bear costume. As soon as he fastened the neck of the big bear head to the rest of the suit, it grew around him, an act so effortless there is no doubt it had been performed countless times before.

  His giant plastic eyes focused on me. Then he charged, roaring, his sharp teeth bore as he came right for me. I did the only thing I could do, and it was only by chance or dumb luck that it saved my life. As the enormous plushy beast came forward, I dove to my left behind the closest structure in the room: The wardrobe rack.

  He hit me just as I'd cleared the costumes, knocking the entire thing over onto me, his crushing weight pinning me to the floor. Terrified, I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the pain, but it never came.

  Instead, the monster, whose furry face was mere inches from mine, -whose breath smelled sweet, like candy- grunted and wheezed. When I opened my eyes, they were staring directly into his, which were now unfocused, confused, and rolling into the back of his head.

  I pushed away, forcing myself from the twisted up rack and pile of costumes, which, blessedly, lay outside the reach of moonlight. It was then that I noticed the stuffing flowing from the creature's stomach. He had somehow impaled himself on the bars of the rack as he fell onto them in his attempt to get to me.
>
  I wasn't the only one to take notice, either. The bean bag beast saw the wound as well.

  Estella-bear cried out, “No! Don't eat Daddy-bear!”

  But it was too late; the thing bounced up and pounced on Daddy-bear, savagely tearing into the wound, ripping free his entire lower half, leaving him in two ragged pieces. Daddy-bear flailed, trying in vain to push the stuffing back into his trunk even as the beast ate it from his paws.

  Estella-bear leaped off the bed. “Daddy!” She rushed to his side, but he was far too gone to even notice. His mouth lay open. His pink velvety tongue lolled to one side.

  Estella began to sob. “You,” she said, glaring at me. “This is all your fault! You're just meat, why couldn't you die like everyone else does?”

  Then her eyes drifted to the pile of fluffy whiteness and Styrofoam balls oozing out of her father's stomach.

  “I'll...kill...you,” she said, but without much conviction. She plunged her paws into the mess. “Kill...you...for...this.” Then she buried her snout into her father's dying body and ate his insides.

  I slowly pushed myself up the wall. The pair of cartoonish monsters continued to eat the third one alive as I scooted myself across the room, leaning heavily into the wall. My legs were weak. My heart raced. I was sure, finally, that I'd gone mad. My breath came in shallow gasps with short fits of blubbering and what may have been laughter as I felt my mind become unhinged.

  It was then that I looked back at the awful headboard. The little creatures there had finally stopped singing and dancing. Now they writhed, trying to pull free of their binding, crying out with a multitude of childish voices.

  Feed us!

  Please let us down!

  It's our turn to eat!

  We're so hungry!

  We need the true flesh!

  None of this absurdity could be real. Teddy Bears did not come alive under a full moon and eat each other’s stuffing. I turned to walk out the door, to return to my normal life, my First Life, if that was still even possible, if there was even a life left to return to after what I'd seen and done over the course of these few months. The beast inside me, finally, had been satiated, defeated, silenced.

  Best to forget about all of this Teddy Bear nonsense. Best to leave it be and wait for the next delusional episode and the next until I was no longer able to function under my own care. Until I was put in the care of some nice doctors and nurses who would see me through the trying times of my mentally ill twilight years.

  No. This wasn't real. This was nonsense. Pure nonsense.

  But another giant plushy monster blocked the path of my escape. I cried out and flinched away but when I looked again, I saw a human face inside the jaws of the monster that looked as frightened as my own must have.

  Vern. Still human, still in his ridiculous outfit. He stood frozen, horrified, and that horror was enough to settle my own nerves and make my mind right. If he saw it too, then as nonsensical as this horror show was, it was also very real. Which meant the danger was real. We had to escape!

  “Is that...is that, did they really...is that...is that,” he stammered, clearly in shock.

  “Yes, damn it,” I said, pushing him out the door. “How much did you see?”

  I looked over my shoulder. The monsters glared at me but made no move to follow. There was still much left to eat. I closed the door behind me.

  “I saw... I-I-I- saw It all. I was coming back from the bathroom, and- and... Oh god, they were dancing and singing, and eating each other! And... oh god, oh my god.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I know. Alright, it's alright. What happened in there was awful, but if we are going to get out of this, I’m going to need you to focus. I need you to clear your head.”

  He nodded, taking a deep breath. We took off down the long hallway toward the stairs. I passed a long open window and froze. I leaped back across the shaft of moonlight blazing through the opening.

  “Stop!” I yelled, pushing Vern back just before the light touched him. “Take that god cursed thing off man, are you insane?”

  He looked at me, dumbfounded, then tore the brown furry elephant costume off and cast it to the ground, revolted, as if he'd completely forgotten he'd even been wearing it. Now totally naked, we both made for the stairs. Just as we rounded them, the door to the room we'd just left exploded. The now snarling, drooling bean bag beast charged forward, hopping along hideously down the hallway toward us. Estella-bear quickly followed.

  “Huuuumans,” she sang. “Where arrrreee youuuuu!”

  We bolted down the remaining steps, cocks bouncing in the wind. With Vern in the lead, we turned left down a narrow hallway and through a set of French doors. This was not the way out. We were back in the parlor at the rear of the house.

  We heard the hideous clomping of the furry monsters as they descended the stairs. Retreating back the way we'd come was impossible. We had to hide.

  “In there,” I cried, pointing at a small door at the back of the room.

  We dashed through, into an adjacent powder room. I closed the door.

  “Quiet now,” I said, listening for any signs that we were pursued. Nothing. We were safe, for the moment.

  Then Vern screamed. I whipped around, ready to clock him, when I saw them. An old man and woman, old enough to be my parents, the obvious owners of the house. Dead. Piled around them, pictures of themselves and their families. Pictures that would have given the monster's trap away, had they left them hanging in the house. They were shoved into the corner of the tiny room. Their hands bound behind their backs. Their throats slit. There was no smell to them, nor decay to their bodies. They couldn't have been dead more than a day. Maybe they'd even been killed just before our arrival.

  It was all starting to make sense, albeit weird, twisted, impossible sense, but sense none the less. The flyers, the discrete phone calls, the invasive questions, even the beat up RV made sense. These... monsters preyed on the perversions of lonely men. Men with no families, no one to miss them if they never came back from their “party”. How many times in how many small secluded towns had Estella and her father fucked and then eaten a group of unsuspecting perverts?

  “Werewolves,” Vern murmured, ending my train of thought. He slid down to the floor, cradling his knees to his chest. He visibly shook.

  “What?” I whispered, straining to hear the whereabouts of the monsters, terrified they'd heard my bewildered companion cry out.

  “Haven't you read stories about werewolves? Lycanths?”

  “No,” I said. “I-I've led a rather sheltered life.”

  “Some stories claim that Native Americans would lather themselves with special salves and oils under the full moon. They would wear the skinned hides of wolves and transform, shape shift, into beasts and run wild in the night.”

  “Those... things aren't wolves, Vern.”

  “No, they're fucking not,” he said, sobbing. “They're fucking stuffed animals but I don't know how else to explain what the fuck is going on here, man. I'm fucking losing my shit.” He started to rock back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably. “I don't want to fucking die!”

  “Shut your fucking mouth, man, and maybe you won’t!”

  But it was too late. The smell hit first, turning my stomach. The smell of cotton candy now forever associated with violence and death.

  “Here little huuuumans,” Estella-bear called from just outside the parlor. “I heeear youuuu!”

  I looked around the room, for something, anything to defend myself. Vern remained on the floor, useless. Just as I heard the hideous clomp clomp clomp of Estella's pet beast chair entering the parlor, I spotted what was surely my only means of defense: A bag of old golf clubs propped up next to the corpses of the true owners of the house.

  “I smell your fear, humans. I know you're in here!”

  “She's gonna fucking get us, man! She knows we're fucking in here,” Vern hissed from the floor, pouring sweat. I could smell piss. He'd wet himself.

 
“Shut. Up,” I barked, snatching the two largest clubs from the bag. I handed one to Vern and braced myself for the coming attack. Vern dropped the club, oblivious. “We can't fight fucking monsters, we're dead. Dead, dead, dead.”

  The door crashed open. Before I could put myself between the beasts and the gibbering man on the floor, they were on him. The bag beast chomped through Vern's writhing legs and Estella-bear jumped onto his chest, tearing into his ribcage with her razor sharp purple talons. His screams were awful but short lived. They made quick work of him.

  I took a deep breath, a breath of desperation, set my mouth, and swung for the fences, praying my first blow would find a home. It did. I swung the club as hard as I could in an upward motion connecting solidly with Estella's left eyeball, shattering the plastic instantly, sending the loose iris into the air. She wailed in pain, grabbing her gaping eye hole, toppling backward over the bag beast, who was now devouring the trunk of Vern's decimated corpse.

  I swung again, downward this time, both hands high above my head, burying the club into the top of the beast. When I wrenched it free, stuffing and Styrofoam balls exploded into the air like confetti.

  Estella was back on her feet, ruined eyeball dangling from a black string, stuffing pouring from the wound. The two monsters roared, eyes crazed, mouths full of drool and fangs. They turned on each other, ripping one another to shreds. I ducked back, willing myself small enough to avoid stray fang or claw. Soon the tiny room was so full of wet, stinking fur, stuffing, and tiny packing balls, that I could not see, nor hear my own terrified shrieks over the guttural growls and screams coming from the two beasts.

  And then it was over.

  I opened my eyes. I'd survived the chaos. As the shredded plushy flesh settled to the ground, I saw that the chair monster had been completely torn apart. Its wide mouth was ripped totally across, leaving the beast in two sections. A top half containing its eyes, ears and upper teeth lay upside down next to the rest of it, like a discarded trashcan lid. As I cautiously stepped over the corpse, my stomach turned as I saw the remains of Vern's tattooed cock jutting up from the bowel of the thing.